


Different Was His Norm

by On_Every_Spectrum



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Autism, Autistic Character, Autistic Phil Coulson, Canon Deaf Character, Character Study, Deaf, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Demiromantic, Demiromantic Author, Demiromantic Character, Disability, Disabled Author, Disabled Character, Disabled Phil Coulson, F/F, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Phil Coulson, M/M, OFC/OFC - Freeform, One Shot, Phil Coulson's Parents, Phil Coulson's family - Freeform, Phil's Parents are Badasses, Queer Character, Queer Clint Barton, Queer Phil Coulson, Queer author, autistic author, demiromantic Phil Coulson, gay author, queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-09 08:29:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_Every_Spectrum/pseuds/On_Every_Spectrum
Summary: "Phil Coulson was formally diagnosed at 27. He realized he was queer at 36.He'd known he was different well before that. But, that wasn't a problem. Different was his norm."





	Different Was His Norm

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly reminder that Phil's experiences of autism are not representative of all autistic people. His story is his own. That being said, I am autistic myself and this story is influenced by my own experiences with autism and the autistic community. 
> 
> Phil's parents are also vaguely inspired by my own very badass sixties hippie grandparents. My grandmother ironed her hair every single day. My grandfather shot himself in the knee when he was drafted. And, both of them attended a lot of protests.

Phil Coulson was formally diagnosed at 27. He realized he was queer at 36.

He'd known he was different well before that. But, that wasn't a problem. Different was his norm.

"I'm not having my child tested and labeled and defined without his say so." His mom had declared, loud and firm and brooking no arguments.

"All right." Cliff had shrugged. Easy as that. "It was just a suggestion." And, it really was. He'd never press. Never want to. Phil might be his child, but he wasn't his kid. And, Cliff had always been okay with that.

Phil's moms never did have him tested. Didn't see a point.

Phil was four when Cliff had suggested it. His mama, calm and quiet as ever, had just said "Let Phil take his own time and his own way. He'll get where he needs to be."

She'd been right. She always was.

Phil was six when he started talking. Always formal. No contractions. Eager to discuss anything he found of interest.

There was lots he found interesting. His mama had chosen to homeschool him. Said simply that she didn't want her child to learn the so-called history any public school would teach him.

So, she taught him what he needed to know. And, he learned what he wanted. History and math and reading and science. But also philosophy and music and art and so many other subjects.

Phil was good at finding connections. Everything overlapped. Every subject related to another. His mind ran readily in every possible direction.

He didn't learn like other kids. But, different was his norm.

His parents were children of the sixties. Flower kids. His mom ironed her long hair straight every day. His mama picked hers into a full afro.

One year they went as Gloria Steinem and Dorothy Pitman-Hughes for Halloween.

Phil grew up bringing signs to protests and cookies to workers on pickets lines. His mama was a Black Panther. All three of his parents had been arrested more than once.

His family wasn't quite what he saw in picture books. Different was his norm.

Phil grew up in lesbian communities when not a lot of gay women had children. And, the ones who did were constantly at risk of the government stealing them.

Everyone knew someone who had had their kids taken away. That was just life. It was how it was.

His mom wanted a baby. And, Cliff was down. Sex was cheaper and easier than IVF. And, she didn't mind too much. Luckily, it didn't take long before she was pregnant with Phil.

Some of his moms' friends looked sidewise at Cliff. Talked about him when they thought nobody else could hear. His mom didn't care. "I don't need a gold star to know I'm a lesbian." She said, scoffing and rolling her eyes.

They might not have quite fit in. But, different was his norm.

So, nobody cared when Phil started talking or whether he smiled at the "right" time. So, Phil talked when he did and smiled how he wanted and learned everything.

He started dance classes when he was eight. Cut his hair for the first time when he was ten. He missed having something to twirl with his hands, so his mama taught him how to knit.

From that point on, there were practically always needles in his hands. When the knitting wasn't there, they flapped and twirled on their own. Tracing patterns through empty air.

Cliff got him a Captain America comic for Solstice when he was twelve. Phil and his moms celebrated Chanukah and Kwanza, but Cliff always got him a little something for Solstice.

Phil fell in love. Captain America quickly became his biggest passion. He read all of the comics, his mothers' friends working together to dig them out of basements for him.

He could quote any line, reference any plot point. He started collecting when he was fourteen. Cap was it for him.

Phil had a firm concept of right and wrong. One rooted in what his parents had taught him, informed by what he'd seen, and inspired by Captain America. He liked order. Liked rules. But, always followed his own rules first. Knew enough to know that the one's society creates aren't always all that fair.

His mothers hadn't been happy when he decided to join the military. His mom had almost fought with him. His mama had stopped her. "He has his own autonomy." She murmured, but it was already settled. His mom was always quick to anger, but quick to calm.

Cliff reminded Phil that he'd shot himself in the knee when he was drafted for Vietnam. Pulled up his pant leg to show him the scar Phil used to love running his fingers over as a child.

Phil hadn't said anything. Steve Rogers had joined the army. He still did what was right. And, he used his position and training (and serum) to do so.

Phil was joining the army. Didn't mean he was planning on always following orders. 

As it turns out, that's a good way to get kicked out of the army. Not everyone can be Captain America.

Before he got kicked out, though, he did well. He liked structure. Liked order. Even liked the kind of orders that didn't ask him to do anything against his moral code.

And, he was clever. Good at making connections. Good at figuring things out. The first to suggest a plan nobody else would think of, because it seemed obvious to him.

He could see how to use anything as a weapon and use anything in a plan. Nothing was locked into one intended purpose in his eyes.

He became a Ranger. He served well. When the army kicked him out, they were kind enough not to court marshal him. Just told him to pack his bags.

At first Phil didn't realize he wasn't just being shipped somewhere new. But, he figured it out eventually.

Nick Fury invited him to join SHIELD. Promised he'd never have to do anything against his moral code. Promised that SHIELD cared about what was right. Said they could use a man with Phil's skills

Phil already knew about SHIELD. Founded by Peggy Carter. He agreed to join. 

SHIELD had very thorough mental health evaluations. Phil was diagnosed at 27. Autism. He rolled the word about in his head. Decided he liked it. 

He'd expected to be kicked out again. The military would have kicked him out. Autism. But, apparently, SHIELD valued "neurodiversity."

That evening, Phil went to the library and spent hours reading everything about autism and disabilities and neurodiversity.

He was autistic. It explained a lot. He'd always been different. And, he had never had a problem with that. 

It was nice having a word for himself, but it wasn't a big deal. Different was still his norm. 

Turned out, he was good at more than just fighting. He was fantastic at paperwork. Good at keeping everything organized and to the point.

He was particularly adept at interrogations and discussions and liasoning. Apparently, it was hard for most non-autistic people to not react, to keep their thoughts and feelings to themselves. Phil had never had that issue. He stayed steady and mild-mannered no matter what.

He rose through SHIELD's ranks quickly.

The first time he refused to follow an order, he wasn't certain what to expect. He'd done well in the military too. Until they'd kicked him out.

Nick Fury called him to his office. He'd looked him up and down, one eye focused firmly on Phil. Phil didn't react.

"Why?" He'd asked simply. It took Phil a moment to figure out the context. There were a lot of whys to be asked in this world. But, he figured Fury was probably asking about why he wouldn't follow this order.

He explained. They developed another plan together.

Phil started leading missions. Started supervising. He was good at planning. Good at issuing clear orders. Good at making certain everyone was on the same page.

He went home when he could. For Kwanza or Pesach. His moms still didn't quite approve of his job. But, they always supported him.

He kept collecting. Captain America a consistent passion. A "special interest" apparently. He wasn't certain that he liked that term, but he supposed it fit well enough.

He kept knitting. Hands flying between missions, during briefings, on transport, and in safe houses lying low. Whenever he had the chance. He made scarves for most of the people he worked with, baby blankets for three different agents with little ones, and a knit toy for Nick Fury's cat.

He didn't have close friends, but that was okay. He never had. He'd never wanted them either. People were all right. He loved his family. He worked well with his colleagues. He didn't look for anything else.

He made Clint Barton a scarf. A purple one. He knew it was the agent's favorite color.

Barton started hanging out in his office. Nobody else had done that.

But, Barton, was all right. Direct. Honest. Always warned Phil before he threw anything around him. He didn't do that for anyone else. Except for Agent Ishida.

Phil didn't mind spending time with him. One day, he came into work and found a couch in his office. He didn't ask where it came from. He already knew.

Clint was the only person who ever used the couch.

"I'm autistic." Phil mentioned once. Two years in. Not bothering to try to make eye contact. Clint never seemed to care.

"Cool." Clint said. Then, warned Phil before wadding up a piece of paper and shooting it into the trash can across the room with perfect aim. 

"I'm Deaf." Clint remarked, still turned in the direction the paper had flown.

"I know." Phil said simply, waiting until Clint turned back around. It was the truth. It was in Clint's file. 

Clint didn't say anything. Phil continued his paperwork.

When Clint asked him out, their friendship, for what it was, had been going on for five years. 

Phil had learned sign by then. It was convenient. And, it was easier for Clint. 

Clint knew all of Phil's triggers and quirks. 

They were comfortable together. Friends.

He was surprised when Clint asked him out. But, not unhappy. He didn't say no.

They dated for a while. Always casual. Busy schedules meant it was hard to plan formal get-togethers. And, both of them were more comfortable at home with good food and a movie anyways.

At first Phil wasn't really certain how he was supposed to feel. Around ten dates in, he realized he was falling in love. It was a nice feeling.

Probably demiromantic, he noted to himself. Definitely gay. 

Good to know. He didn't need to research that. He'd grown up in the community.

Phil realized he was queer at 36. It didn't throw him. Different was his norm.

Phil and Clint's relationship was good. Clint was still direct. Told Phil what he wanted and needed. Phil did the same. They were honest with one another. Phil was always on solid ground with him.

He learned that Clint had been hurt too much and loved too little. That he hadn't even know being gay was a possibility when he was a kid. That the scarf Phil made him was the first real present he ever received.

Clint learned about Phil too. They took time. Kept learning about one another together. Finding the common ground, but always celebrating the differences.

Phil brought Clint home for Chanukah that year. His moms had already learned some sign themselves. Cliff got early Solstice gifts for both of them.

It felt natural having him there. Clint fit in. No more different than any of them were. It was nice.

Phil was formally diagnosed at 27. And, he realized he was queer at 36. But, he'd always been different.

And, that was good. Different was his norm.


End file.
